Thank you so much for the reviews on the last chapter. I loved writing their reunion scene so I'm glad you enjoyed it too!
8.
"Please return to your bedroom."
Hanna's slumped against him and gives no signs she's intending to move. He frowns down at the top of her head. Initially, it was her who was insistent they did as they were told for fear of repercussions and he gets it now; they didn't spend their so-called wedding night in the way A wanted and they were punished by being separated for days, each tortured in their own way. He intended to keep his promise never to leave her, and he's not going to risk being forced to break it by disobeying an order as simple as this one.
"Han, did you hear-?"
"Why won't it leave us in peace," she murmurs.
He rubs at her shoulder. "We've got to go."
"Don't want to."
"Please return to your bedroom."
"Come on, together."
He climbs to his feet and holds out a hand to help her up. Reluctantly she takes it. Once they're both upright, he returns his arms to its position around her shoulders and she leans into him again. She's shaking still, weak from days of crying without food or drink to replenish her energy, and he can tell he's supporting much of her weight as they begin the slow walk along the corridor. He doesn't feel much better himself and it means he's almost relieved when they find a bedroom door slightly ajar.
From its location he's sure that this room, though identical to previous rooms, is new to them both. As soon as they're both inside, the door slams shut and locks.
"You have one hour."
Hanna's grip on his waist tightens. "One hour for what?"
"Or one hour until what?"
"No," she whimpers. "I can't do this."
He turns to face her and takes her head in his hands. "Yes, you can."
She shakes her head.
"Hanna," he says, firmly. "I know you. You're brave and strong and resilient, okay. You can do this." It's far easier giving her a pep talk than it is giving himself one. He's still sore from the shackles and the beating a few days ago but having her to look out for is more than enough reason not to give up.
He leads her through to the bathroom and pours water into the two plastic beakers beside the sink. "Here you go." He passes one to her and taking a large slurp of his own. It strings his parched throat, but the relief is immediate.
She takes the cup but she doesn't drink it, only stares down at the rim.
He puts his cup down, using one hand to stroke her hair and the other on top of hers, to guide the drink to her mouth. "It'll help, Han, honestly. Some people can only last a few days without water."
He doesn't miss the way she shudders and knows what he's said has somehow hit home. But she does as he asked and he's able to reach around to pour a top up on his own.
When he turns back to face her, there's a look of intensity in her eyes.
"I love you," she says.
"I love you too."
"No, I mean, I really love you." She bites her lip. "What A told me… it could have been real. I couldn't bear the thought of you suffering like that. All because of me."
"Hey, I'm the one who let you get dragged down a rabbit hole."
"It was a hotel hole! And it was my plan"
"Doesn't matter."
"When I thought they'd killed you… it felt like half of me had been ripped away."
His eyes sting and he look away while he does his best not to cry. He'd lost control earlier but he's determined not to let it happen again. If she thinks he's okay, she'll be okay too.
"I'm scared of them hurting you for real this time."
"You should drink some more water," he says.
"Caleb." She pauses. "Caleb, look at me."
He relents. It's even harder to keep himself together when he sees her damp eyes, nose and mouth swollen from crying. "Seeing you so upset and not being able to help was the worst," he says. "I'm not gonna let it happen again."
She strokes a strand of hair from his forehead and then her fingers trace down his cheekbone and jaw, resting on his lips. He kisses her finger.
"I was being serious about drinking more, by the way, you need to rehydrate." Taking charge of a plan helps him keeps his emotions at bay. "We should get washed and changed too while we have the chance. I'll see what's in the wardrobe."
She shadows him across the room. This room isn't as generously stocked with clothing as the previous rooms but there's still an outfit for them both; jeans and a grey top, as if A wants them to match. He doesn't like having to succumb again to another of its requests but it's that or remain in the soiled clothes he's been in for days, and Hanna's still in the funeral dress.
He passes her the clothing with a shrug. "You want first shower?"
When they're back in the bathroom, she turns to face him. "Get in with me."
"You sure?"
She nods but he still maintains the eye contact for any signs she doesn't want to cross this line. Once he's reassured, he pulls his t-shirt over his head. His arms fall back to his sides and Hanna gasps. She gently takes his right arm and inspects it. He follows her gaze and sees a reddish bruise across his bicep. There's another, though not quite as dark, on his left arm, mottling across his chest, and he suspects his legs will be marked too.
"What happened?" she asks.
"They're just bruises, they'll fade."
"That's not what I asked."
He sighs. "It shackled me to a chair. This was me trying to get free."
Her eyes fill.
"Babe, don't cry."
"I hate that this happened to you."
"I get it." He reaches out and takes her hand. "I feel the same about you."
"No, you don't," she says. "You don't get it. You were dead!"
"I wasn't-"
"But I thought you were. I thought they'd tortured you and killed you! I thought the worst thing ever had happened."
"I know." He frowns as he tries to piece his words together. "But that's why I do get it. I saw what you went through, Han, and I hate that you were put through that pain, especially because of me."
"It's not your fault A told me you'd died."
He shakes his head. "I- I shouldn't have fallen asleep so they could separate us! And I shouldn't have sat down in that blasted chair so they could tie me to it!"
"Well, I'm glad you sat in the chair!"
"What?"
She squeezes his fingers. "Because it's better than the alternative."
He breaths deeply. "I'm still sorry."
"Me too."
"Come on," he says, with a nod to the shower. "We've got a time limit, remember."
He removes the remainder of his clothes and climbs into the shower, pretending that he's focusing on adjusting the temperature and oblivious to Hanna undressing just inches from him.
He holds his breath as Hanna climbs into the shower beside him. Their eyes lock. He's nervous and he knows she is too by the way her bottom lip trembles. It's not lust in the usual sense, he just needs to be close to her, connected.
He stands aside so that she has a chance to get under the spray of water. For want of something to do, he shampoos his own hair, then squeezes some extra onto his palms and reaches up to rub it into Hanna's hair. She watches him, wide eyed. He stands behind her so he can lather it properly and run his fingers through her tangled hair to unknot it. He can inspect her injuries properly now. The top of her back, her shoulders, arms, chest are all covered in burn marks. He gently presses his lips against her shoulder in the gap between two burns. Her breath hitches. Slowly she twists towards him and wraps her arms around his neck. His own arms instinctively wind around her waist, capturing her in an embrace. Every nerve feels like it's on fire. His heart is hammering so hard, he's sure Hanna must feel it too from her position pressed against him. She rests her cheek against his chest, facing him, and he watches as her eyes flicker shut, looking like she's finally relaxed. They haven't spoken about what they're doing, the kiss earlier and now this, but after everything, he doesn't think they could keep a distance between them even if they wanted to. It feels like the only way they can get through this is together.
The water cascades down on them. He lets shampoo run into his eyes rather than letting her go so he can wipe the soapy water away. The water stings his cuts and burns but seems to be helping to ease the aches in his muscles. The biggest help is the skin on skin contact with Hanna.
She tucks up against him on the sofa, her fingers lazily drawing a pattern on his thigh, his hand stroking her damp hair. She knows they only have moments left before all hell could be thrown at them and, while she doesn't want to break the peace, there's things she can't leave unsaid. She learnt some things the hard way in the dollhouse and everything now is about keeping Caleb safe.
"Caleb… If- if A…" She shakes her head at herself. All these years later and she still can't properly explain the dollhouse. "Just… Just do what you have to, okay? Anything it makes you do… I won't hold it against you."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, don't do anything stupid. If you have to hurt me to prevent something worse happening to yourself, then do it."
He's frowning deeply. "I'm not going to do anything that hurts you!"
"You have to." She swallows. She knows what she needs to say however much it pains her. "I'll do the same. To you. If it comes to it. Trust me, Caleb, it's the only way to survive this."
He sighs and looks away, their respite shattered. "It won't come to that."
She reaches for his hand. "No judgement, no guilt, just do it. Will you promise?
She can see him mulling it over. He opens his mouth to answer.
"Congratulations!"
They both jump.
"You've been selected for a complimentary spa experience. Please proceed to the spa for your first treatment."
"A spa?" Caleb says, his voice laced with scepticism.
He tries to get to his feet but she tightens her grip on his hand and pulls him back down beside her.
"Promise me," she repeats.
"Okay," he says. "Okay."
She's glad she's got Caleb's hand to hold as they walk down the corridor. She doesn't know how she would have lived without him. Now he's back, she doesn't want to let him go. She knows there's so much they need to sort out, Jordan and Spencer for a start, but it's hard for that to feel significant when they're in here.
This room has a tiled floor, a soothing colour palette and abstract music that seem similar to spas she's been to before, but her attention is drawn to a table in the middle of the room with a chair at either side.
"What is this?" she asks, pulling Caleb closer to the table.
There are two circular dials in the middle, each with an arrow that spins. One has a list of spa treatments, all seemingly innocuous, facial, manicure, pedicure, the other alternating between pictures of her face and Caleb's, with a single segment for 'both' and another called 'your choice'.
"A game," he replies.
"What kind of spa has games?" she snaps. "No, don't answer that, I already know. A's spa."
"Please take your seats."
With a shared look of resignation, they sit down opposite each other, immediately rejoining hands across the table.
"Do you suppose there's any food at this spa?"
"I was trying not to think about food. My stomach feels like it's trying to eat itself."
"Please take your first spin."
"You do it," Hanna says.
Caleb takes a deep breath, reaches out and spins the first arrow on board. It flickers around, landing on manicure.
Hanna takes her turn and spins the arrow on the board containing their pictures. Every second that passes while the arrow slows feels like a lifetime. Eventually it comes to rest on the picture of her face. Her stomach clenches.
"Great, I love to get my nails done," she says with false brightness.
A compartment unfolds from what she'd thought was a panel lined wall. On it, is a machine that for a ludicrous moment she thinks is a toastie grill. They edge towards it. There's a note on its base that reads 'please place your hand within for A manicure.'
She takes a deep breath and feeds her left hand into the machine, fingers in one compartment, thumb in another, like mittens. Immediately something clamps around her wrist, locking her there. There's a brief wet feeling on her nails that could be polish and then an intense stabbing pain pierces all four fingers. She screams.
Caleb grabs at her arm. "Take it out!"
"I can't!" She whimpers in pain. "It's locked."
It feels like someone's drilling through her nails. Each finger is pulsing with pain. It feels like her hand is exploding. She can't help but cry out as the pain intensifies and stabs deeper into each fingertip. The room, this hell, everything fades except the agony in her hand.
Eventually she becomes aware Caleb is holding her. She turns her head and buries it into his chest, letting his t-shirt soak up her tears. Her free hand makes a fist in his t-shirt and she squeezes as hard as she can to try to redirect the pain. He's stroking her hair and her back and whispering in her ear over and over, you've got this, it's okay, I've got you, it's gonna be okay.